


An Overture

by Secrethomeworkassignment



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, M/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, cw homophobia, cw parental abuse, cw slavery, cw social violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secrethomeworkassignment/pseuds/Secrethomeworkassignment
Summary: After an unproductive conversation with Fenris, Dorian does some soul searching, opens up to a colleague, flashes back to his youth in Minrathous, and makes a connection he did not expect.





	An Overture

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note, the flashback contains some unpleasant and potentially triggering content. If you'd like to skip over it, I've put three asterisks at the beginning and at the end of that section.

The meeting had not gone well. Dorian sat, dejected, at a table in the Herald’s Rest with his head in his hands, a half empty wine bottle and two glasses before him. Fenris hadn’t even touched his. Dorian thought halfheartedly that it would be a shame to waste such a good vintage, and poured the undisturbed contents into his own now empty glass. He was just resolving to pull himself together and find something productive to do when the Iron Bull came striding in. Dorian groaned. He thought maybe if he kept very still he could hide in plain sight, but alas, fortune had abandoned him this day. Bull pulled out the chair across from him and hunkered down.

“You alright there, Vint?” asked Bull, eyeing the two glasses and taking an experimental swig from Dorian’s.

Dorian glowered at him. The giant brute hadn’t the slightest respect for the concept of personal space. Dorian was suspicious of the Bull’s motives- he didn’t think he could tolerate a ribbing right now- but he did need someone to process with, and well… Bull was there. He sighed.

  
“Fenris really put me through the wringer. I didn’t think it would be an easy conversation, but he wouldn’t even hear me out.” Dorain rubbed his eyes wearily. “And the worst part is he’s right, of course. About everything.”

Bull frowned. “And what exactly did you expect to get out of that little talk?”

Dorian had given up, accepted that Bull was going to help himself to the rest of his wine, and pushed his glass in the Qunari’s direction.

“He’s going to ask the Inquisitor for an Exalted March. I was hoping to convince him that it doesn’t have to be that way. Give me a little time, and I could bring the issue of slavery before the Senate. You might be surprised how many magisters would vote in favor of abolition with the proper incentive, especially outside Minrathous. The provinces want better relations with the rest of Thedas. They’re tired of conflict.”

The Qunari eyed him, his face inscrutable. “You don’t favor the slave trade?”

“I used to. It was… just the way things always were. But the more I see of the world, of life… the more I’m persuaded that it’s a stain on the Imperium. We’ll never enjoy a lasting peace so long as our empire rests on the backs of slaves.” Dorian reached back across the table for his glass and took a deep sip. “And that’s entirely apart from the fact that it’s… you know… wrong.”

Bull was looking at him with an expression that Dorian couldn’t quite interpret.

“You surprise me, Vint. In fact, you haven’t stopped surprising me since we met.”

Dorain snorted. “Having started at ‘pure evil’ I suppose I could only rise in your esteem.”

“I’m serious. It took courage to talk to Fenris. Most of the magisters I’ve met would sell their own mothers to avoid a conversation like that. You could have taken it straight to the boss, cut the elf out completely.”

Dorain swirled the dregs in his glass, not meeting the Bull’s eyes. “It was the right thing to do.”

Bull picked up the empty bottle and examined the label. “Fancy.”

“Fenris ordered. Turns out he has quite the palette for Tevinter wine. Who knew? Too bad he didn’t stay to enjoy it.”

The Iron Bull was staring at him now with that same inscrutable expression, and it was beginning to disturb him.

“Do you hunt, Dorian?” asked the Bull, after what Dorian considered an uncomfortable duration of silence. Dorian regarded him with great suspicion. He couldn’t begin to imagine where this was going.

“Have you finally grown bored with ‘Vint’?”

“I think I have.” Replied Bull. “Answer the question.”

Dorian frowned. “Er, yes. Pheasants and such. Nothing large.”

“How ‘bout you and me go hunting tomorrow morning? Just us two.”

Dorian’s suspicion deepened.

“I… is this a… are you planning to kill me in the woods or is this a social outing?”

Bull simply held his gaze. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”

Dorian didn’t have an answered prepared. He had spent plenty of time with the Iron Bull in the field, but that was professional time. Battles of wit aside, they had a decent working relationship, but they had never spent any time together of their own free will.

“Can I think about it?” Dorain asked.

“Sure. Sleep on it. Let me know in the morning.” Bull got up to leave, but looked back at Dorian as he reached the door.

“Get some rest, Dorian.”

“ … you too.”

Well that was strange, thought Dorian. He was still pondering his conversation with Bull, a briefing from the Inquisitor half read on his lap, when he drifted off to sleep in the overstuffed chair in his study.

***

Dorian and Rufus Claudius sit together on the garden wall stroking each others’ hands. They kiss. They begin to kiss more deeply. Their reverie is broken by Dorian’s father shouting from the garden door. “Dorian! Inside, now!”

Rufus scrambles away over the wall, and Dorian, his heart stuck in his throat, is dragged by the arm into Magister Pavus’s office. His father slaps him hard across the face.

“Dorian, do you have any idea how foolish that was? If anyone, anyone found out about that little tryst it could ruin your future. It could ruin Rufus.” Magister Pavus won’t even look his son in the eye. “All it takes is one filthy rumor, and believe me, plenty of people would relish the opportunity to shame Claudius and I. Do you understand me? I’m not trying to hurt you, Dorian, but this can’t go on. Do you understand?”

Dorian tries to imagine he is somewhere far away. That this frightened young man is just a character in one of his novels. That this isn’t real. He stares down at the colorful pattern of vines and flowers woven into the carpet.

“Yes, father.”

Magister Pavus’s face softens. “You have a bright future, Dorian. So does Rufus. You simply can’t afford to take that kind of risk.” He sighs and gestures for his son to sit. “Son… if you really must express such feelings, there are… appropriate outlets. You cannot carry on with the son of a magister, but your slaves are a different matter. Get it out of your system, and for Maker’s sake, keep it quiet.”

Dorian looks up at his father, not entirely sure he believes what he’s hearing. “What do you mean?”

Magister Pavus shrugs. “What about Adeodatus? You always got on well with him.”

Later that evening Dorian sits nervously on his bed, waiting for a knock at the door.

“Come in.” He calls out when the knock finally comes. A fair haired elven boy of about Dorian’s age enters.

“Dorian? Dominus Pavus said you had need of me.”

Dorian looks away, avoiding Adeodatus’s eyes. “I- yes. Come sit with me, Dede.”

Adeodatus complies, coming to sit next to Dorian on bed. “Dorian? Are you well? You look pale. Maybe I should get you some water.”

Before the elf can get up, Dorian catches his hand.

“Dede… have you ever been with anyone? I mean, like another man?”

A flicker of something passes over Adeodatus’s face, but he nods knowingly.

“Ah, I see. Please give me a moment to bathe and make myself presentable. I’ll return shortly.”

“Of course.” Dorian replies. He waits, growing increasingly uncomfortable. Adeodatus returns wrapped in a silk robe, his hair wet from the bath. He sits on the bed beside Dorian and puts a hand on his knee. Dorian looks up at him. He’s known Adeodatus all his life.

“Dede, you know you don’t have to do this.”

The elf looks Dorian in the eye, and the flicker returns, something in his expression that Dorian has never seen before. Something sad, jaded. “Don’t I?”

Adeodatus gets up and begins to untie his robe. Dorian turns away, he can’t look. He covers his mouth. Finally Dorian gets up, stumbles to a corner and vomits. He kneels on the floor in front of a pool of his sick, fighting the urge to start sobbing. Dede crosses the room and tries to help him to his feet.

“Dorian… Dorian get up.”

***

Dorian woke with a start. He was back in his study at Skyhold, and the sun was rising.

It was a beautiful summer morning in the Frostback Mountains. The alpine air was fresh and balmy, sunlight streaming through the pines as Dorian and Iron Bull ventured forth into the woods outside Skyhold. Bull had come prepared with a set of light, hollow spears, but Dorian was conspicuously unarmed. Pine needles crunched under their feet. Dorian was feeling introspective and had made no attempt at conversation, so their sortie had begun in quiet. Some minutes passed before Bull broke the silence.

“You sure you're up for this? You look like you're gonna hurl on those fine leather boots.”

Dorian shook his head. “Too much wine last night. The fresh air will do me good.”

He thought for a while, enjoying the birdsong and deciding how much he wanted to share with his Qunari colleague.

“I just can't stop thinking about Fenris's proposal. Damn it, he made a compelling case, but I will not stand by and see Minrathous razed. My heart couldn't take it.” Dorian looked up at the Iron Bull. “I'm sure that must seem insane to you, a Qunari.... My tragic love for the cesspool on the Nocen.”

“Actually it doesn't.” Bull replied. “I mean, I can't pretend to understand that particular love... But I know what it is to be an exile still in love with home. Tal-vashoth, remember?”

Dorian chuckled. “Don't we make a fine pair.”

“I think we do.”

Dorian stopped in his tracks, squinting suspiciously. What in the bloody Void was going on here? “I'm too old for innuendo, Bull, and far too tired. Have I finally lost my senses or did you take me out here to court me?”

This was the Bull’s cue to flash that rakish grin of his, but his rugged face remained quite serious.“That all depends on you, my man. That little chat you were having with the elf. Strictly  
politics?”

“That isn't funny.” Dorian shot back.

“I wasn't kidding.” In fact, the Iron Bull looked more serious than Dorian had ever seen him.

Dorian laughed in disbelief. “Right- leaving aside any consideration of the horrifying, immense baggage that would attend a relationship between myself and a former slave, it's clear that Fenris mourns for Hawke. He’d hate to hear me say it, but that man is Tevinter through and through. He'll die old and grey composing poems in Tevene entitled ‘Marian.’”

“What, you people mate for life?”

Dorian chuckled. “Haven't you heard? Tevinter is for lovers. Everyone in the South thinks it's all wine and orgies and glistening slaves, but the ideal in Tevinter has always been the ‘one woman man,’ or the ‘one man man,’ as the case may be but that’s somewhat more controversial.”

Bull grinned. “Yeah, we tend to overlook that aspect of our enemy.” The Qunari paused, hefting a spear and pretending to scan for movement in the trees. “You ever loved like that?”

“I've never had the opportunity.”

“Would you like to?”

Dorian could scarcely believe what he was hearing. “What's this? Could the oxman possibly be interested in more than just a hasty conquest of my various orifices?”

“I mean- hasty, no. A careful, sustained, and tactically sophisticated conquest followed by a concord of mutually beneficial peace between your orifices and my cock. And my orifices and your cock, if you like. How's that sound?”

Dorian was scandalised, amused… interested.

“I think that’s the first time a Tevinter ever heard a Qunari say the words ‘mutually beneficial peace’ in the history of Thedas.”

A rustling in a nearby stand of bushes caught Iron Bull’s attention. “I hear something. Behind and to your left!”

Dorian spotted the pheasant and fried it with a blast of fire from his fingertips. Bull fetched the charred bird from the bushes and held it up in triumph. “He kills the bird and cooks it all at once. Now that is skill.”

Dorian winked. “I aim to please.”


End file.
